Can I Play With Madness
by CaptainIncredible
Summary: Some lose their humanity in the games and some actually find it. In the 58th Annual Hunger Games, the barren island of the arena will show two tributes how to play with madness and the true cost of their survival.
1. Prologue

"You better run," Hercules yelled. "Better yet, why don't you just come on back and get it over with. We're gonna get you eventually and it's gonna be worse,"

"Run girl, run," Luxor kept shouting. He struggled to drown out the calls for mercy from the wounded girl on the ground at his feet.

"Both of you shut the hell up," Athena yelled at them. She struggled to finish tying up the wounded girl from district five. Luxor, just give me a hand with her. This was your freaking idea anyway."

"I think we caught the wrong one, that girl from nine is the feisty one. This one I think is going to die way too fast," Luxor commented as he bent down to help finish tying the screaming girl from district five up.

"You can stop yelling anytime now," Athena bent over to tell the screaming girl face to face, "it won't do any good. Save your strength, you're going to need it." Athena stood up in the soft sand of the beach and looked out into the open ocean before turning to scan the dunes for an appropriate spot to complete their plan.

"Remember, we need her still alive and kicking," Luxor ordered to Hercules.

"Don't worry," He replied with a smile, "she'll still be useful, but I don't think she'll be able to kick."

The girl from five screamed and began to thrash about in her bonds. The high pitch of her pleas for mercy and the tears of horror did little to persuade her captives as they circled around her. The smug looks that graced their faces hid the true horror of their intentions for her.

Luxor and Athena took one last glance at the girl before turning and walking towards the grass covered dunes. Their sandals sunk into the soft white sand as they tried to negotiate the uneven surface. The breeze blew soft off the ocean and was a welcome comfort in the heat of the desert island.

Suddenly, Athena stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Hercules. "Remember, alive and kicking. We don't need her comatose, so hold back a little." Her tones soften as she open a small flirtations smile across her lips. "Remember, just enough blood to attract the dogs. This is Luxor's plan, remember?"

Hercules only smiled back and waved in acknowledgement. He was not in any mood to smile though. He had killed way too fast so far in the games. The heat of the battle demanded that he dispatch his opponents with hast, but that was yesterday. There was no reason to rush as far as he was concerned. There would be no other tributes to challenge him while he worked over the girl. He wanted to enjoy this. He wanted to take as much time as he could get to really practice his craft. It would take the others some time to find the perfect spot to lay the trap using this girl. Hercules figured that he had plenty of time to unleash some true horror for his sponsors to enjoy.

"I would hate to be you right now, but don't worry, I'll leave something for the dogs."

Somewhere in the Capitol at that very moment, Wiress "Mrs. D" Dunmill smiled as the career pack used her move from a long ago games. At the same time, she shuddered with horror at the way they took it to a new and higher level of cruelty.


	2. Chapter 1:A Mentor at Last

"It doesn't matter if our tributes do not have any sponsors," Wiress commented as she walked beside Mark. "We still do not drink until they are dead," she replied in an upbeat and cheerful tone as the two moved down the hall at the main viewing center in the Capitol.

"Why, because it's professional," Mark asked.

"No, because it makes you seem like you care about the kids you are sending to their deaths," she replied in an obvious voice.

This would be Mark's first year as a mentor. It had been four years since his victory in the 54th Games when he had flipped all expectations and killed all the careers in the opening hours. Since then, life had been a roller coaster struggle for him. The hate and disdain he entered the games with was drawn out from him with the weight of a victor's expectation. It started the minute Mark returned home. The harsh feelings he had for the kids in the district who laughed at his reaping were not easy to let go, but it was Beetee who calmed Mark. He took Mark under his wing and befriended the scorn youth. He brought the angry victor back from the brink of his rage. Four years later, Mark was not the same person he was when he won the games.

If Beetee tended to Mark's personality, Wiress groomed his mind. The fall after his victory, Mark entered the classroom only find a more worthy adversary than the games could produce, Wiress. To the aspiring children of district three, she was the gateway to the elite jobs of scientists and engineers within the district. She took potential and talent and sorted out those who were capable and those who where not. Those who others saw as worthy would have to impress her before they were granted the ability to pass. Mark was no different. Mrs. D, as she was referred to by her students, pushed Mark harder than any other student and demanded a higher standard of him. He did not receive a single inch of slack as she squeezed every ounce of talent from him. Mark rose to every challenge and as a result. She made Mark the engineer he was today just like she made him the victor of the games just four years ago.

"Do we care about them this year?"

"They don't have a chance," she replied coldly. "You know that and I know that, but we do what we can for them. "

"So how much did you care for me," Mark asked in a giddy voice. He knew all the tricks and deceits that his mentors used to prepare him for the games. He was no longer shocked at how his mentors operated.

"You my boy were something special. You were something entirely different, a contender."

"You didn't answer my question," Mark answered as they turned the corner and continued to the main room.

"Oh Mark, after all my grooming, you still are so unpolished. We'll continue to work on that," she lamented to him in a tired voice. "Care is for those who are sent in to die. For you, we were focused and ready to produce a victor. You were too strong to just care about."

Mark stopped and turned to Wiress who continued to walk. "So why did my Uncle drink so much the day I started the games?" His tone became harsh and accusing as his onetime mentor kept walking.

Wiress stopped, turned abruptly, and stared down Mark. "Because, it was like sending one of his own children out there. Your uncle was a mess the day you entered the arena. The only thing that stopped him from drinking was the moment you cut the girl from district one's arms off. Your performance on day one gave him hope."

Mark just stared in disbelief into Wiress cold eyes as she stood her ground. For the past four years she had groomed him and she still offered him no quarter or mercy in her lessons. She knew potential in people and she knew how to extract it, grow it, and present it. Wiress may have been slowly slipping mentally over the last few years, but her instincts on cultivating talent were as sharp as ever.

"He loves you Mark. You know that. Don't be so shocked at him, you're better than that. You know better than to see only the surface of a situation. You are the son he never had, but he'll never admit to it." With that, she turned and continued walking. Mark could only hustle a few steps to catch up.

"I will miss Joe's antics, but not his drinking. He and Hamish from district twelve never seem to behave." Her voice was almost a pout. Since Mark's uncle Joe decided to pass on this year's games to focus on his work, Mark was sent as his replacement. Both Wiress and Beetee insisted on it.

"Now come my dear boy, it is time to learn how the political game is played among the mentors and the sponsors." She wrapped her arm around his and led him into the main viewing room. "School is back in session, but try and have some fun with it." With that, the two entered the great room filled the powers that be in the games. Sponsors, mentors, victors, government officials and past game makers all drank and watched the plethora of television screens that broadcasted every moment of the slaughter. The only person not present was President Snow himself. Mark had been in this room before, but never as a mentor. This year would be different for Mark. This year, he would have to care.

As he sat down next to Wiress on the long plush sofa adored with a red flower pattern, Mark felt a hard slap on his back just as Hamish from district twelve passed by. Mark instantly leaped to his feet to meet the treat, he was welcomed instead by the outstretch hand of Hamish that offered him a drink.

"You all grown up and a mentor now," Hamish slurred, "you'll need this if you want to stay sane though the games." He lifted the glass almost to Mark's eye level before Mark took it from his hand. He could feel the harsh dissenting glare of Wiress boarding though his back, but Mark took the drink anyway. Hamish had become a good friend with his uncle and despite his rough and harsh tone, Hamish had warmed up to Mark as well. Mark knew that once his tribute was dead, he would need to hang out with someone and there was only so much Wiress Mark could stand. Hamish could be a lot of fun when you wanted to just let go of it all.

As soon as Hamish passed on, Mark sat back down next to his district partner, but did not take a sip of the drink. He knew school was still in session with Wiress and despite all his doubts about his own tribute's abilities, Mark would do his best to support the doomed kid.


End file.
